Silver Dragon: Kent
by GraceEliz
Summary: Draco Malfoy is born rich, and powerful. His mother is bewildered by his accidental magic, his extended family don't care as long as he's healthy. His best mate Harry grows with him - but Draco is kinda miffed Harry gets a bike first.


_Hello! This is the first installment of my Draco Malfoy centric multiverse (I guess) crossover series. These stories will all be named Silver Dragon: then the name of the setting, and each chapter will be titled with the appropriate name for the content. Tags will always be put in the author's notes, structured like this, because I'm a big believer in tagging content._

_Oniforever's beautiful marvel/HP fic Come Together is considered canon. Here's the AO3 link: /works/21385717. _

_Tags: - Baby Draco Malfoy, naming ceremonies, powerful Draco, the Black Sisters, scheming, mild pining, DIY canon and invented magical theory. _

_Enjoy! _

The two-month-old baby in Narcissa's arms whimpers under the noise of the gala. Malfoy Manor is full to bursting of the magical world's rich, famous and powerful in celebration of the long-awaited birth of the Malfoy heir, beautiful people in beautiful robes bearing beautiful gifts for the closest thing the magical world has to true royalty. Her son will be raised a Prince like his father. She isn't sure how she really feels about all that pressure – knows exactly how she feels about Lucius Malfoy's Pureblood principles – but that is a worry for another night so she brushes it out of herself, pressing a kiss to what looks like his father's silver hair.

A few tables away, Bella collapses giggling into her husband's side. At Narcissa's insistence, she'd agreed to set aside politics and her outdated ridiculous pureblood obsession with breeding in order to keep the peace and allow interactions between the somewhat estranged Black family. Andromeda's filthy grin lights the table they share, and for a moment Narcissa sees the life they could have had, the three of them free from the madness of the politically-charged magical world and safe in some small out-of-the-way village, united with the Howlers against the idiocy of the outside world.

Her thoughts are broken when her tiny son laughs in her arms, and she smiles up at the silver sparkles which erupt from the ceiling in response to his joy. He has so much potential already, barely a month old, a literal bringer of light in darkness. Bella has done research into these sparkles. The girl might be mad, but she is genius when it came to digging up details – now would be the best moment to talk the subject over as a group. Perhaps, in the intervening time since their conversation a fortnight ago, Andromeda had discovered something in the Hogwarts library. As the woman of the hour, it takes very little effort to weave her way laughing and accepting congratulations through the crowd. Nobody dares to allow elbows or hips to check her, nobody dares allow her to pass without a polite greeting. The Black sisters may all be married, but they are still dangerous, a triumvirate of upbringing and intelligence and inner strength – each one trained in magic by Lord Voldemort, the war hero, himself.

Rodolphus notices her approach first, standing to allow her the seat beside her sister. He bows his head, leaves without a word to interrupt the flow of conversation between Bella and Andy. They're energetically discussing charms and whether or not a charm has the potential to change the signature of a being's magic, given that Lord Voldemort's magic was reputedly altered by his Shield of Loki.

"Cissa, answer me this," says Andy as she drops into the vacated seat, "You always were the best at charms. Can magic be changed?"

That – perhaps. If one was very careful, and knew their magic and the magic of the charmed one, then it could be possible to create a metamorphosis of sorts. Bella's fever-bright dark eyes feel like comfort and familiarity and the support of a sister. She nods slowly, gathering her thoughts into a logical statement. "It would be a metamorphosis of sorts, I think," she muses, "So the spell would have to wrap around the magical core, all of it. If it was spelled rightly then the charm could alter the trace of the core."

"Magic can be changed," pipes Bella. Andy inclines her head in agreement, then stills, the Black light of sudden realisation on her face. The younger two sisters settle deeper into their chairs, Draco propped in the crook of his mother's elegant arm, all silver eyes and wide gummy smile. "If Andy doesn't think of something we should ask your old crush," continues Bella in the pause. Narcissa's gasp of outrage is brushed away lightly. "Come off it Cissy, we all know you'd have married him if he had even the semblance of respectability."

"How dare you, Bellatrix Black! You know that is not a suitable subject for this setting," Cissy hisses with narrowed eyes, "So you can take your – ridiculousness elsewhere if you aren't helping me." She ducks her head down to Draco's to hide the gleam of pained tears, to gather her strength back up to present the impeccable Lady Narcissa Black Malfoy she has to be for her husband and her son and all the people swarming around watching them. It isn't fair for Bella to bring him up, to dangle that missed opportunity on today of all days, to remind her of the man she didn't pursue no matter how much she wanted to. Remus Lupin had joined the Howlers – an adapted name for the Howling Commandos, who were a sort of special operations team combining magic and muggles – straight out of his perfectly-scored NEWTs, working under the tutelage of Lord Voldemort, Howard Stark and Agent Peggy Carter. He'd taken his dream with both hands, waving his friends temporarily goodbye, and Narcissa had followed her Mother's plan and ended up here.

"I'm sorry, that was cruel of me," breathes Bella, "Forgive me?"

"It's a good idea," Narcissa says, heart aching for that happiness she let go, "But aren't the Howlers on deployment? Something to do with neo-Nazis, a new outburst of Grindelwald's followers, yes?" Her sister nods energetically, not seeming at all stumped by the obstacle of geography. Rolling her eyes, Narcissa sneaks a peek at her husband. He's still in the far corner by the patio doors, distracted by his cronies; they're safe to keep up their conversation. "Andy? Got anything?"

"Hm? Well, maybe. The Potters, remember, they control the technomancy companies, right? We should go to them and ask for help."

"They –"

"So help me," grits Cissa, "If you even think the phrase blood traitors I will throw you out of my house."

Bella rolls her eyes. "First, I wasn't going to say anything like that. The Potter boy, the one they adopted, he has a baby now, remember? They could be busy. Second, this isn't your house," her sister finishes triumphantly.

"Shut up, woman."

"I love you too Cissy. Now tell me: when do we go to the Potters?"

The three sisters subsided into silence for a few minutes as they thought ahead. Over the approaching weeks the Malfoy household would undoubtedly be facing a deluge of social visits, during which baby Draco would sleep, Lucius would be the high-born society king he was, and Narcissa would grind her teeth so much a headache resulted.

"Social calendars are important, so, maybe in a fortnight? That would be the accepted time period for post-naming visits."

Up above, the ceiling shivers in white lights once more. The sparks float down the room, fizzing out like snowflakes over heat, awareness of the peculiar magic trace rippling through her pale skin. One large spark flutters all the way down to ping out on Draco's forehead. He blinks awake, smiling.

Lucius and Rodolphus march over, robes catching the breeze in a poor mimicry of the imposing wizarding figures they seek to imitate. That means it is almost time for the naming ceremony. Pasting a doting smile, Narcissa raises to her feet.

"It is time, my love," draws Lucius, dropping a loving kiss to the back of her gloved hand. She wishes Bella hadn't brought up Remus. Her husband's attention is making her skin crawl.

The ceremony takes minutes, minutes which pass in a blur of smiling at the press and seated guests. First, her son is handed off to Lucius (reluctantly) who speaks the Latin phrases associated with House Malfoy, calling for peace and strength and good fortunes to fall upon their son, then in French he calls upon his ancestors to bless him (how very archaic), and finally it is the final stage.

"I name you, my son, Draco Lucius Malfoy, first son of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Narcissa Black. May your name bring you the strength of the dragon and the splendour of the stars," she intones. Above the ceiling erupts into glitter, falling into elegantly styled hair, getting into gowns and robes. Lucius huffs; Narcissa hides a smile.

Narcissa prays his name isn't an omen, prays that the odd stories about gods and ancient magicks won't affect her and her own – she dares not believe in safety, not with this new magic Draco possesses. Her greatest fear is that his name will bring him pain, that the infection of blood superiority will not stain him. In a world where he will need to be strong, there is no other name she dare give him. Her son will be a Dragon and he will survive everything this world throws at him – even if that means the three Black sisters dragging him and each other through by the hems of their robes.


End file.
